


I am a Poor Wayfaring Stranger

by RisingShadows



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Ghosts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Supernatural Elements, William Schofield sees ghosts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:07:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22872970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisingShadows/pseuds/RisingShadows
Summary: William Schofield sees ghosts.It isn't all that helpful on a war front.
Relationships: Tom Blake & William Schofield
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

_ I am a poor wayfaring stranger. _

William Schofield had held ghosts in his hands since he was eight years old. Since an overcast Tuesday morning when his mother had first led him to the graveyard of their town and passed one soul of many into his hands. 

He hadn’t understood the magnitude of what was given to him then. He still didn’t. More than a decade later and with the souls of those lost surrounding him, he doubted he ever would.

(They had begged him not to enlist. His sister clutching her daughters and the ghost of her husband still in his uniform behind her.)

Only the sons could see them his mother had told him. He couldn’t tell them of the ghosts that filled the streets, uniforms streaked with blood. Begging to be heard. 

He’d promised them he’d make it back. Even then he’d doubted his own words. 

_ I’m travelin through this world of woe _

He’d barely entered the trenches before he started gathering them. His mother had once said it was like their family had a siren song in their veins. 

The ghosts of men already lost tugging at his sleeves and whispering in his ears. The dead always knew who could see them. Will thought it had more to do with the fact he couldn’t bring himself to look through them as he should. 

When he had the chance, he’d walk behind the lines leading the dead from the trenches to the empty churches. 

Sometimes a Grimm would be waiting, ready to lead them on. Into that last unknown. Sometimes he’d leave them in the graveyard. Laid amongst the headstones like so many soldiers asleep among the trees. 

_ Yet there’s no sickness toil nor danger _

Sometimes, he forgot who was alive and who was dead. So many trailed in his shadow murmured in his ears. 

Sometimes he turned to speak only to look into the eyes of a dead man.

It was worse after the Somme. Worse after all those he had known were gone and yet not. 

Their hands clutching at him, their voices a cacophony in his ears. Dragging at him until he drew them in, until they were hidden in the lacing of his boots. The stitching of his pack and wrapped within the folds of his clothes.

He’d told himself they weren’t there. The dead were meant to move on. He’d been lying. 

_ In that bright land to which I go _

He’d met Lance Corporal Blake when the younger man had stepped through one of those that followed him. A wide grin on his face and his hands waving as he chattered away. 

He’d told himself he wouldn’t get close again. Told himself that he wouldn’t care for the would-be-dead again when he knew they’d be gone soon enough. The whispers in his ears were proof enough. The hundreds of souls he had carried from the battlefield. 

And those few who refused to leave him.

He wasn’t sure if he should count himself among their ranks or not. 

He didn’t know if one who spoke to ghosts could become one. His father never had, or maybe he had and he’d simply never known.

_ I’m going there to see my father _

The first time he’d gone home his mother had begged him to desert. He’d refused to tell her of the ghosts that trailed in his shadow, of the hands that clutched at his shoulders and wrists. 

He couldn’t desert when they’d never leave him. How could he desert when those he was deserting were always there? 

His mother had warned him that some ghosts didn’t know. They were the ones that refused to leave. The ones that would remain long after their bodies had been laid to rest. Or in the case of the war, left to rot.

He found that she had been somewhat correct. Most knew. 

That didn’t mean they were willing to walk on. 

_ I’m going there no more to roam _

Blake calls him Scho and he wonders if that means he’s failed. 

He knows he has when he drags the other down and behind cover and listens to the screams around them, most of them are already dead. 

He knows he has when he realizes he couldn’t bear it if the other joined those screaming in his ears and tearing at his sleeves. If he joined the ones trying to hide beneath his ribs.

One more had never been too much before. But if it were Blake?

_ I’m only going over Jordan _

He finds that the longer he remains on the war front the harder it is to ignore them. 

He also finds that Blake makes it easier. 

It's almost amusing to realize that even the dead find themselves falling silent to listen when Blake speaks. Listening to the chatter of stories and jokes as the younger soldier offered him a wide smile and he wondered when the other would lose it. 

He hoped he wouldn’t. Hoped the war would end before Blake joined the ghosts that trailed in his shadows.

Maybe then he’d be able to lead them on. Even the Grimm could only take so many at a time, and even then, some wouldn’t remain among the graves. 

_ I’m only going over home. _

“Pick a man, bring your kit.”

He knows before Blake is even on his feet that he’s the one he’ll pick.

The dead whisper in his ears and he tries to ignore the dark eyes of Lance Corporal Williams to his left. A Private who’s name he’d never learned on his right. He can hear Jones behind him, Davies begging to be heard. 

When he turns, following in Blakes wake he’s careful not to look towards Davies. Tries to ignore the dead man. Clutching at the front of a Private's uniform as if the other man will suddenly see him. 

At the same time, he’s careful not to think of how he trails behind Blake like the ghosts that follow at his back. The ones that hide themselves in his pack and whisper in his shadow. 

It's odd when he thinks about it. 

Is he any better than the dead?

_ I know dark clouds will gather round me _

“It’s easier not to go back at all.”

He almost forgets who he’s talking to before the other turns back on him. Blinking as they continue through the trenches. Around him the ghosts murmur and speak, begging once more to be heard and he forces himself to ignore the swell of voices behind him. 

A moment later and the younger soldier was distracted once more. Attention turned back to the mystery of what they’d been called for. 

He tells himself that nothing can be worse than the Somme. And tries to ignore the flash of Corporal Evans moving to his right. Shadowed blue eyes watching him. 

Sometimes the dead know, sometimes the dead don’t want to move on. 

Evans is one of many. He can’t quite bring himself to ask any of them why. 

_ I know my way is rough and steep _

“The Germans have gone.”

He doubts that. Doubts any claim that they would give up any territory after forcing their men to fight for every mile.

And beyond that, even if the living are gone, the dead won’t be. Not all of them at least. 

He can’t bring himself fault Blake when he agrees. His brother is there. 1600 men. 

He wonders if that’s more ghosts than wander the trenches now. He’s never bothered to count. Behind him, they’ve all fallen silent. Even the dead know the weight of what is being said. They whisper again, but this, this is not a cry to be heard. 

He wonders if this is what will make some of them understand, it's too late to save them. He can’t help but think it's most likely too late to save anyone here any longer. 

_ But golden fields lie just before me _

“Down to Gehenna or up to the throne. He travels the fastest who travels alone.”

For a moment the generals words echo in his ears as they begin walking. 

He travels the fastest who travels alone. 

Who travels  _ alone _ . 

There are two of them. 

He can’t help but think it's an omen. 

If only one of them will make it he prays desperately that it will be Blake. He doesn’t know if he can survive another ghost following in his shadow. 

_ Where gods redeemed shall ever sleep _

The dead scream in his ears as they move and he’s tempted to tell them all to shut up. Even knowing that the soldiers they pass are silent. 

It's always odd to consider that the dead are louder than the living now. When he’d been a child still, the dead had been silent. Had wandered like shades among the living, easily recognized for what they were.

It's almost painful to know that the roles are reversed. The living more like shades than the dead that screamed to the sky. The dead had no reason to fear speaking. No one else could hear them anyways. 

Or maybe it was that they thought they still lived, when so many of the living thought the opposite. 

_ I’m going home to see my mother _

He stumbles through the ghost of a man with sergeant's chevron stripes on his shoulder before he even realizes the man is dead. Another soldier, a living one, he realizes a moment later calling out to him as he does. 

“God’s sake. Careful there, you’re stepping on the dead.” 

Behind him, the sergeant is still screaming orders. The man in front of him looking down at the sandbags beneath his feet as he stumbles forward. The man looking back up at him and continuing as he stares.

“That’s our sergeant-”

He’s almost thankful when the screaming of the dead drowns out the man's next words as he stumbles past him. 

_ And all my loved ones who’ve gone on _

It isn’t long before Blake is standing in front of the York’s Lieutenant. A dead man standing beside the Lieutenant like a second shadow. It isn’t quite like his own shadows though. 

“Settle a bet, what day is it?”

The man speaks before he even has the presence of mind to do it. Harshly snapping at the lieutenant as if the man could hear him. 

“Friday, I said so earlier you sodding fool.”

He finds himself answering at the same time forcing himself to look away from the dead man and back at the living one as the man continues on. 

A moment later and he finds himself watching Blake as the lieutenant talks. Asking the questions he knows Blake won’t think to ask. He can’t bring himself to be surprised by the answers he receives when he can see the men in question. 

It's always been easier to tell who died recently. They still have some hope of being heard. 

_ I’m only going over Jordan _

He keeps his eyes locked on Blake when the Lieutenant sprinkles whiskey on them. 

“Through this holy unction may the Lord pardon thee whatever sins or faults thou hast committed”

He’s tempted to tell him that the Lord's pardon won’t matter when they’re dead. The dead don’t leave the moment they fall. They have to be willing to move on themselves. 

And here, in the trenches and no-man’s land, they so rarely move on immediately after they’ve fallen. The private screaming in his ear is only further proof of that.

Besides, the Lord’s pardon doesn’t matter all that much to him. He doesn’t know if he cares where he ends up when he’s dead anymore. He’s not sure if he ever did. 

_ I’m only going over home. _

“Age before beauty.”

He goes over first. 

Well, that isn’t entirely true. Evans goes first like he always did when they were alive and he tries desperately to separate the then and now in his head. It takes a moment longer to realize he had grouped himself with them. 

It's odd to realize he doesn’t quite remember being this afraid the first time. But then again, he always claims he doesn’t remember the Somme. He’s never had the heart to tell Blake he’s lying. 

_ I’ll soon be free from every trial _

No-man’s land never quite matches what he expects. It is supposed to be dangerous, open ground, deadly to cross. It is devoid of life. Empty save the craters and the bodies scattered throughout it. Empty save the occasional rat and the flies. 

But for him, it is full of the dead. Some wander searching for fellow soldiers, some simply lay where they died still screaming for help. As if they’re still dying. As if help may come in time to save them.

He waits for the shots to come. Moves past the horse’s, stumbling as he reaches the wire and turns just in time to meet the eyes of the man the lieutenant had pointed out. 

He almost jumps when the man meet’s his eyes and the dead man starts screaming. It's only Blake's lack of reaction that lets him force down his own. He’s tempted to tell the man he’s dead as he reaches out to widen the gap in the wire. Dragging his eyes off the dead man as he does and signaling for Blake to move past him. 

A moment later and he’s torn his hand open on the wire. Blood welling from his palm as Blake turns back towards him. 

“You alright?”

Behind him, he thinks he can hear the German laughing. 

“Just look for cover.”

_ My body sleep in the church yard _

It isn’t a minute later that his hand goes through a dead German’s chest. 

The dead men that surround them are laughing. Jeering at them as Blake struggles to steady himself and he tears his eyes away from them pushing in on him. Tries to ignore the ones screaming, the fact that if he looks up, he’ll meet the eyes of the one who’s chest his hand just went through. 

Behind him, the ghosts that trail in his shadow are screaming. Evans hand is around his shoulder, Jones is screaming in his ear to fall back. 

“Find cover.”

Sometimes, he thinks they forget they’re already dead. Even though they’ve stuck around the longest. They forget that they can’t defend him or any of the other soldiers. That he may have been the youngest when they were alive but they aren’t any longer. He thinks he might be older than Jones was now. He knows he’s older than Williams was. 

He isn’t as surprised as he should be when some of those who trailed in his shadow pushed back. It’s almost amusing to watch the dead fight each other. 

The dead can’t bleed after all. Much less die a second time. 

_ I’ll drop the cross of self-denial _

A moment later and he’s pressing himself into the ground. Ordering Blake to stay still and trying to ignore the loud calls of the same order that ring out behind him. 

He can’t tell if they’re trying to warn them, or the other dead. He doesn’t think it matters all that much in the end. 

“They’re ours.”

Another second and they’re moving on. He can’t help but wish that no man’s land was as empty as it should’ve been.

At least Blake couldn’t see it. At least he was the only one that could hear the dead screaming. 

_ And enter on my great reward _

“Fuck me. They really have gone.”

Gone is relative. The living may not be there, but he finds it harder than expected to differentiate between the ghosts that fill the trenches and the living when they are the only living one’s there. 

Blake doesn’t react so he forces himself not to. 

The silence stretches as they push on. Rifles raised as they moved and he finds it hard not to fire when the dead lunge. 

It seems even in death the German’s don’t stop. 

Hands drag at his rib cage tear at his clothing and skin and it's only the fact that those that had already been following push back that stops him from losing himself in the sudden panic. 

He’s only somewhat thankful that Blake doesn’t notice his badly hidden panic. His eyes locked onto the others back as they continued on. A dead end. A bunker. 

He already hate’s it. The dead push in on him, the German’s hissing curses and screaming threats while those that follow in his shadow scream back. Evans stands at his side, and he can’t bring himself to wish the dead man had moved on like he usually does. 

_ I’m going there to see my savior  _

Evans warns him about the trip wire. 

He also warns him about the rat, a moment too late.

All he hears is screaming. He can’t tell if it's his own anymore or not. He thinks Blake might be yelling. He can feel a hand clamped onto his shoulder a voice whispering into his ear. 

“Not yet damn you.” 

A weight is pushed off of him and hand drags him to his feet but he can’t see and Blake is still screaming. Dragging him behind him as he starts moving. 

“You can’t join us yet.”

Blake stops. He can’t see why. Can barely hear him over the screaming in his ears. He can’t even tell if it's imaginary or not. 

“We’ll have to jump. Come on!”

Blake let’s go and he doesn’t argue. Where Blake had released him, another hand takes his place. Dragging him forward and into the jump. Blake’s hands catch him when he lands. Leading him on and on as they stumble. 

It's almost a surprise to stumble into the light. 

The first thing he sees once he’s cleaned his eyes is Williams crouched in front of him. Face impassive as always. Evans a few feet further beside Blake as if the other man will suddenly see him. Jones swaying on his other side as he looks out. 

_ To sing his praise forever more _

He wants to argue. But the look Evan’s gives him stops him short and it's almost amusing to realize just how much power the dead men truly do have over him. He’s almost tempted to apologize to them. They wouldn’t stick around if he couldn’t see them. 

They shouldn’t stick around even though he can. The dead are meant to move on. His father had once said that it was his family's duty to ensure they did. He’s always known he’d fail them someway. 

He’d assumed it was enlisting at first. Now, he isn’t so sure.

Only after Blake fires the flare, he forces himself to follow him. Up and on through the copse of trees as Blake chatters on with another of his stories and he once more finds himself listening. The dead men that trail after them and around them falling silent as they always seem to when Blake starts talking. 

“Well that’s your medal sorted then.” 

As he speaks a hand tugs at his sleeves and voices whisper in his ears. Beg him to answer them. 

“What do you mean?” 

They continue walking. 

“Lance Corporal Blake showed unusual valor in rescuing a comrade from certain death, blah, blah, blah.” 

“You reckon?” 

“I do.”

_ I’m only going over Jordan _

He doesn’t mean to argue. When he finally admits what he’d done with his medal in front of him he can see Jones shaking his head. Evans watching him from the side and Williams glaring ahead while he ignores the hands clutching at his arms and his pack. 

The argument ends just as quickly as it begins.

“I hated going home. I hated it. When I knew I couldn’t stay. When I knew I had to leave them, and they might never see me-” 

But he’s never known when to keep his mouth shut and the words are out before he can stop himself. Blake doesn’t need it. Doesn’t need to hear it. 

He won’t let the war break him. Won’t let it take one of the only people left he cares for.

Blake won’t join the ghosts. He swears it. 

_ I’m only going over home _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't as good as I'd like it to be so I may come back and fix some stuff when my brain doesn't feel as fried. I may add a second chapter when i can actually decide how I want this to end and finish off the rest of the move but for now, here you go!  
> Edit 2/27: Fixed some bits and edited some stuff to actually make sense


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Farmhouse. And the Pilot.

The farm before them seems empty from a distance. Abandoned maybe, though Will’s rarely certain when it comes to that. It's even harder when sometimes, the dead remain. Continuing as if they were still breathing. 

The tree’s are what catches his eyes. The crumbling wall surrounding the small orchard nearly completely collapsed and small, pink petals scattered throughout.

“Jesus. They chopped them all down.” He doesn’t expect a response. Not after the small argument they had just had and his inability to keep his mouth shut when it mattered. 

Blake, trailing silently behind him, hadn’t restarted the conversation after that last outburst. And the longer he remained silent the more he was tempted to apologize to the younger soldier. He hadn’t meant to burden the younger man with his issues. The other didn’t need it just as he didn’t need to know about the dead trailing along behind him. 

“Cherries.” The words drifted from his right. Past where Jones stood as Blake considered the tree’s around them. “Lamberts. They might be Dukes, hard to tell when they aren’t in fruit.” The matter of fact tone wasn’t lost on him as they continued through the small orchard.

“What’s the difference?” The question echoes from another voice to his right as he turns towards Blake. Watching the other look over the trees scattered around them. 

“Well people think there’s one type, but there’s lots of them - Cuthberts, Queen Annes, Montmorencys. Sweet ones, sour ones…”

“Why on earth would you know this?” The question returns them to their usual pattern. Calming the odd agitation that had drifted between them as they walked. Hopefully this time he wouldn’t fuck it up. 

“Mum’s got an orchard, back home. Only a few trees. This time of year it looks like it’s been snowing, blossom everywhere. And then in May, we have to pick them. Me and Joe. Takes the whole day.” Blake had mentioned an orchard before, never what they grew in it. But this wasn’t the first time he’d mentioned doing such with his brother. 

“So, these ones all gonners?” 

“Oh no, they’ll grow again when the stones rot. You’ll end up with more trees than before.”

Nodding slowly he Will turned his attention from the cherry trees to the small pond that separated them from what appeared to be the derelict remains of an old farmhouse. The roof barely a skeleton what it should’ve been and shell holes visible in the ragged remains of the clapboard barn. 

Something about it thrummed against his skin. An energy similar to the dead that trailed at his back, dragging at his clothes and his breath as if they could claim it as their own. Something he felt so constantly he’d almost forgotten about it. 

It was a constant in the trenches, where they couldn’t go a day without another death. 

Here, here it was an undercurrent of death soon to come. When Will was younger it had made him nervous, now it was so natural that it was more of a shock to realize it had been missing. 

And a warning.

“It looks abandoned.” Behind him, a few different voices murmured their disagreement. Quite warnings to be wary of traps. Evans in front of him glanced back for only a moment before turning away once more. 

“Let’s hope so.” The quiet murmur earned a disapproving glance from Jones as the dead man stalked past him. A gun clutched in his hands as if he could still fire it. 

“We have to make sure.” Will moved on before Blake could, stepping in front of the younger man and moving slowly towards the house. The hum in his veins only growing stronger, and with it the murmurs of the dead behind him. 

Of course they’d be louder in a place where another may join them.

“I’ll take front, you take back.” As he continues on, Blake splitting away to search the back. A few feet behind him he catches sight of Evans trailing the younger soldier. Jones following in the Corporals shadow. 

Pushing through the open door WIll held his breath. Hands steady on his rifle as he turned and began to slowly sweep the house. The burning silence around him interspersed with the whispers of the dead at his back. The hum of death only grew stronger as he moved. A murmur in his bones and filling his veins. 

The bedroom was empty, of anyone living or dead save the ones that trailed behind him. The rest of the house the same as he moved through it. Blake walking into sight as he stood by the window looking out on the back. Evans and Jones on either side of him both turned to watch Will instead of Blake. 

“Anything?” Blake’s voice breaks the tense silence as Will forces himself to breath through the hum in his veins and ignore the hands tugging at his clothes. 

“Nothing.”

Continuing on towards the kitchen Will paused for a moment. His eyes locking onto a child’s doll, similar to the ones his nieces played with. The ghost of a private who’s name he’d never learned reaching down as if to pick it up. A name falling from his lips like a prayer. 

Shaking himself out Will forced himself forward, entering the small kitchen as Blake entered through the back door. 

“Did you find any food?”

“No.” Pausing for a moment Will turned his eyes from the younger soldier to the empty remains of the farm house. Trying to ignore the hum in his veins that only grew stronger with every passing second. “I don’t like this place.”

As Blake turned to search the kitchen himself Will exited through the back door instead. Moving to check the clapboard barn instead. Evans sliding over to step in front of him as if to lead while Jones remained at Blake’s back. 

The barn was no better than the house. Shell holes marring the back wall and debris scattered across the ground around it. But, through a gate at the back stood a cow. A few more lying dead in the grass around it. 

Evans was the one that nudged him. One hand on his shoulder as he indicated a bucket the lid half on. Kneeling down to knock the lid the rest of the way off while Evans stood watch, as if the dead man could offer any aid should danger come. 

It was more of a relief to know the Corporal was keeping watch than it should have been. 

“Map says we get over that ridge and it’s a straight shot to Ecoust.”

Glancing towards Blake Will nodded. Shaking out his arm as he pulled his empty canteen out, filling it from the bucket.

“Good.”

The hum in his veins filled his ears. A steady thrum like a heart beat stuttering in his ears. Rattling through him and clogging his throats as he struggled to force himself to ignore it as he did in the trenches where it permeated everywhere. Even when they were stationed at the back the hum of death was there. Now, after it had been gone for so short a time he couldn’t understand why he couldn’t simply push it down. 

The drone of a plane engine caught his attention as he stood. Shaking the hum of death out of his ears and ignoring the hands that grasped at his sleeves the sudden clamor of raised voices still trailing in his shadow. 

The open doors of the back of the barn giving him a clear view of the planes flying overhead. A dog fight, three planes like insects at the distance they were at. For a moment both men were silent. Simply watching them twist through the air above them, the dead at Will’s back falling silent for a moment and the hum in his veins seeming almost to subside. 

“Is that our friends again?” Blake’s voice at his back brought his attention back to the world around him. Drawing him away from the planes and the dead even as they continued to watch.

“Looks like it. Dogfight.” As Will spoke some of the dead drifted past him. Watching the planes almost as if entranced by the fight taking place so high above them. 

“Who’s winning?”

Watching for a moment Will shrugged lightly before answering. “Us, I think. Two on one.” A moment later and the British planes fired, the German plane falling silent and beginning to fall. 

“They got him...” Behind him Blake’s voice trailed off. Distracted as he watched the planes twist, the German plane coasting towards the ground smoke trailing behind it. 

For a moment they watched, entranced as it fell. Like a leaf in the wind, catching updraft only to drop towards the ground once more. Dipping below the horizon in front of them and with its disappearance the hum was back. Slamming into Will with like a tidal wave. Filling his ears and rattling his bones as his breath caught in his chest. Freezing for a moment Will struggled to shake himself out of it, the plane reappearing in front of them. 

And heading straight towards them as Will stumbled and turned darting towards Blake as the plane gained on them. Moving faster than the two could run. They wouldn’t make it, a hand closing on the back of Will’s pack almost seeming to lift him off the ground only to throw him down as he and Blake dove. The plane destroying the barn behind them as they hit the dirt and lay still for a moment. Will struggling to catch his breath and ignore the uproar of voices in his ears. 

Screaming that could have been the living or the dead at this point. Hands dragging at his clothes and Evans crouched above him. Eyes shadowed and face dark as he grasped onto Will’s vest as if to drag him to his feet. 

As Will managed to drag himself back to the present, some of the screams in his ears drifting away like smoke on the wind. Blake already moving towards the burning wreckage. Will stumbling to his feet to follow as he realized that at least some of the screaming wasn’t just in his head, or already dead. 

Blake reaching in to drag the man, screaming from the cockpit as Will reached around to help. Wrenching the pilot’s strap free as the two dragged him out. His legs burning as they did so and more than one of the dead cursing them as they did so. 

Dragging the injured man across the ground Will caught his first glimpse of the pilot’s mangled legs. The pilot rambling beneath them in German neither of them understand, hands grasping at their arms as Evans snarled curses to his left. Jones leveling his rifle as if any of them could actually do anything. 

“Put him out of his memory Schofield. It is better than dragging-”

Shaking himself out Will turned away from the dead Corporal with a deep breath and paused as he looked to Blake before forcing himself to speak. “We should put him out of his misery.”

“No. Get him some water. He needs water.” The younger soldier’s response didn’t surprise him as he gritted his teeth. Turning away and darting for the water pump dropping his rifle as he did. Reaching out to begin pumping the water when Evans hand closed around his shoulder and the dead man tugged harshly pulling him around just in time to scramble for his rifle. 

Lifting it, he fired. The pilot jerking once as Blake tumbled backwards and away from him, eyes wide as he stared down at the knife clutched in the dying man’s hand and Will fired a second time. The gun clutched in shaking hands as the mans body went still and Blake turned towards him. 

“I Scho, he was, why would he-” Cutting himself off the younger soldier stumbled to his feet. Jones drifting along at his shoulder, one hand outstretched as if to comfort him. The Lance Corporal glancing towards Will, mouth set in a grim line as he followed the boy. 

“I had too.” He didn’t need to justify himself. He knew this, even as he clutched his rifle to his chest and Blake turned towards him with wide eyes. The younger man shaking slightly as he nodded slowly. A moment later and his face shifted as he sucked in a deep breath. Squaring his shoulders as he nodded once more. 

“We need, we need to keep moving Scho.” 

In his bones the thrumming had stopped. The hum of death soon to come dissipating with the death of the pilot. Leaving him shuddering as he nodded. A jerky motion as he moved to follow the other. Evans moving to take point at the same moment that a pair of Privates stepped into view. 

“You two alright?”

The moment he spoke Will jerked, hands tightening on his rifle as Blake turned wide eyes on the two men. 

“It’s alright.” The taller of the two spoke softly stepping towards them as they relaxed. Nodding as they began to walk towards the two. A man with Captain stripes walking towards them as they moved. 

“What are you doing here?”

“We have an urgent message for the 2nd Devons. Orders to stop tomorrow morning’s attack.” Will spoke up when Blake remained silent. Staring almost past the Captain as they stood in front of him. 

“Where are they stationed?”

“Just beyond Ecoust.” It was Blake who answered the time. Quiet in a way that set Will on edge. Swallowing away his unease as the Captain considered them, nodding as he turned away. 

“Come with me. We’re passing through Ecoust. We can take you some of the way.”

“Sir.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment and kudos what you think! This was meant to be a two-shot but after this part took 2k just for the farm I'm not sure how many more it'll take. I do plan to finish it through the rest of the movie though so more will be coming! 
> 
> Thanks to the 2nd Devons discord for voting on whether or not Blake would die by the way! It was way to close to a tie though, you guys live for the angst huh.
> 
> With that, I honestly don't know what happened with the style change aside form the fact that I am apparently the most inconsistent person ever I am so sorry...


	3. Chapter 3

It was easier than Will felt it should’ve been to ignore the screaming that followed him as the Captain led them around the side of the farm house. The dead that followed him were oddly silent, a quick glance and he knew why. The ghosts watching the newly dead man as Will turned his back and started walking. At one point, when he was still new to war, still young, he may have tried to lead the man on. To take him with the dead that followed him and leave him in the church yard. 

He didn’t even bother trying this time. Not when the man had been so close to having Blake’s blood on his hands. Evans hand hadn’t left his shoulder since he’d forced him to turn around. Jones trailing the Captain a few feet in front of him while he tried to get a better grip on what was happening. He had to at least be able to tell the living from the dead after all. 

The small convoy of trucks on the other side of the farmhouse were surrounded by soldiers. A large number of them struggling to lift the tree the German’s had left barring the road. Blake blinking at them while they made their way towards the Officer’s car at the front. The man simply watching the soldiers as they worked to shift the tree out of the way. 

“Oh, come on Sergeant. Put more men at the base. At the trunk! It’ll be heavier there…” The Colonel’s voice earned a quiet huff from Evans at his side as Jones turned to quirk an eyebrow at him. 

Captain Smith simply sighed as he led them on. “Might be a tight squeeze.” The soldiers that stood around were clearly coated in the mud from no-man's land. The wheels and undercarriages of the trucks were even worse off than the soldiers that surrounded them. 

“No. You’re not going to be able to just lift it. Pivot the front end to the left.” Will winced slightly as they finally reached the colonel, still calling orders to the men, a number of privates and an NCO trying to shift the tree out of their way. The man taking that moment to turn to the driver with a loud huff. “Jesus. They don’t make things easy do they. They could at least have retreated with a bit of grace. Bastards.”

In front of them Smith stopped. The two of them stilling behind him as he looked at the colonel. “Sir-” For a moment the Colonel stared down at the two of them. Confusion clear on his face as he glanced towards Smith with another sharp huff. 

“You’re not one of mine.”

Will saluted automatically, Blake doing the same out of the corner of his eye. “No, Sir.”

The colonel turning way almost immediately to look to Smith instead. Raising an eyebrow as he waited for the expected explanation. The Captain nodding towards them as he spoke. “They’ve got an urgent message to deliver to the 2nd Devons, Sir.”

The Colonel barely acknowledged the reason, turning back towards the tree with a dark glare. Will wincing as the soldiers tried once more to lift it, managing to shift it a few feet to the left as they watched. 

The Colonel instead leaning towards his driver with another loud huff. “Can you get past it?” The Sergeant already shaking his head as Evans snickered in Will’s ear and he tried not to turn to glare at the dead man. 

The Sergeant turning a long suffering look on the man for half a second before turning back towards the road. “No, Sir.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” Grumbling under his breath the Colonel drew in another breath and bellowed at the men once more. “Just move it!”

“There’s room in the casuals truck, sir. He has orders” Captain Smith’s prompting earned another glance from the man, looking over the two for barely a moment.

“Yes, yes, alright.” The dismissal was clear. Smith turning back towards the two with a wave of one hand and leading them back towards the trucks once more. The Colonel’s voice carrying to them as they went. “Come on now. You can get through there sideways.”

Wincing slightly Will glanced towards Blake as he glanced over his shoulder at the man. The two turning back towards the Captain as he swallowed. Jones nudging him sharply from one side as he voiced the question he’d been holding in. “How did you get here, Sir?” 

For a second the Captain was silent. Turning to look at the pair before he nodded slightly. “Crossed No Man’s Land just outside Bapaume. Took us the whole night. Bumped into a couple of Hun stragglers on the way who made a nuisance of themselves.” 

Nodding slightly, Will glanced back. Locking eyes on one of the few he was certain were dead. Still moving throughout the other soldiers as if they would see him. “You going up to the new line?”

“Attempting to. The Newfoundlands have pushed forwards and requested reinforcements.” Looking back at the the Captain stopped for a moment. Considering them before nodding, turning towards Blake for a moment before he spoke. “May I tell you something that you probably already know?”

Beside him, Blake swallowed as he turned to face the man. The Captain waiting for a moment before he spoke. “It doesn’t do to dwell on it.”

“No, Sir.” Blake’s voice was quiet. But certain in a way Will didn’t think he quite liked. His eyes hard in a way Will had seen before, but never on the younger soldier. No, it was far too similar to what he saw in older soldiers. What he occasionally feared he’d see in the mirror reflected back in his own eyes. 

Nodding once the man turned away without another word, gesturing towards the truck. “Hop on.” Stepping up to meet the Privates lounging around the back of the fourth truck. “Make some space there... Come on, in you get!”

As the two stepped up to clamber into the truck Will screwed his eyes shut. Ignoring the clutter of dead men already filling what little space there had been as the two found seats. The men around them, both alive and dead, grumbling as they shifted to make room. 

Shivering slightly as he ended up half in some poor dead Private. The man trying his best to launch into a story as the trucks lurched to a start and Will swallowed against the unease that settled across him. A side effect of the ghost as it pushed further into his space to avoid another dead man.

The Private next to him sighing as he settled back into his seat. “Alright. Here we go again boys.” 

The Private next to Blake turning towards the two of them while Will tried to ignore a hand waving through him. Watching as Evans stood at the back of the truck. Glaring at the ghosts that filled it as if that would change anything. “Welcome aboard the night bus to fuck-knows-where.”

The first Private drawing their attention back to him a moment later as whatever they’d been talking about before the stop picked up again. Will leaning back with a quiet sigh as he checked his kit. Tugging at the straps to settle them more evenly as the chatter washed over him. Blake clearly listening in as Will tried to steady himself again. Pushing the ghosts back as they reached to drag at him once more and breathing a sigh of relief when this time they went. 

The moment the truck stopped they’d be back but until then at least he only had to deal with the ones already in here. And none of them aside from Evans were paying him any attention. 

Will checking his watch as he tried to gauge just how much further they needed to go. Blake turning slightly as he did so, hand rising to check that the map was still in his pocket as they glanced at each other. 

“You got somewhere you need to be?” Twitching as the men’s attention turned to him Will began to speak when the truck lurched beneath them. Will bumping shoulders with the man beside him and one of the ghosts falling straight through the man across from him. The man shivering harshly even as Will stumbled as he rose reaching up to catch himself before stepping up to the back of the truck. 

The 2nd Private already groaning behind him. “Oh, no...”

“Arsehole needs driving lessons.” And that would be the first. Evans nudging him further as he jumped from the back and Will sighed before following. Blake stumbling as he landed beside him and the two turned. Watching the wheel sink into the mud. 

“He should reverse.” Blinking up at Evans Will did his best not to show a reaction as he turned and repeated it. The Private agreeing even as he watched and Blake glanced between them. 

Will gritting his teeth as he turned to yell it to the driver instead. Listening for the gears that would mean he’d listened and sighing when the truck only sunk deeper. “No. Stop. STOP!”

“Everyone needs to get out.” Its that announcement that seems to snap Blake out of his silence the younger soldier nodding as he turned to glare up at the men slowly climbing to their feet. 

“You heard him! All out!” All that earns is half-hearted glares and a few quiet mutters. The men waving him off as they jump down. It isn’t fast enough and Jones choosing that moment to loudly announce that in his ear only added to his mounting frustration. 

“Come on!” That final order seeming to finally convince them to move. The last few men, alive and dead, scrambling free as Will glared up at them. 

“Alright, alright. Keep your bloody hair on.” 

Sharing a frustrated glance with Blake Will shook himself out as he stepped up. “Right.” Blake taking his place next to him as a few other men stepped up to do the same. Preparing to push as they heard the engine start again. “One. Two. Three.”

The wheel turns slinging mud but it doesn’t move. A hand on his shoulder that has to be dead as a few of them join the push. 

“We need to get some wood, put it under the wheels.” The Private’s correct. But they don’t have the time and the two of them can’t wait around for it to be figured out. Will gritting his teeth as he turned towards the man. 

Blake got the words out first. “We can’t, we can’t. We haven’t got the time. We just, we all need to push.”

Nodding behind him Will sucked in a steadying breath as he glanced at the men standing around them. “We all need to push. We have to go.” The men turn to Will almost as if they’d forgotten he was there. Too caught up in Blake’s clear desperation. “Please. We have to go now.”

A minute later and they’d reclaimed their spots, its one of the Privates that leads the rest. “Alight, come on lads! Come on.”

Twenty of them and another dozen ghosts pressing in as Will breathed out and shook out his hand for a moment. Sparing a quick glance towards Blake as he did so. Jones pressed in between him and another private.

“Come on, boys!”

Will didn’t know which of them that was as he nodded once. Counting them off. “One. Two. Three!” 

The same Private that had called them into place taking in a deep breath to call out again. “Come on boys! One last push! Yes! One. Two. Three!”

In front of them the truck lurched, sliding free of the mud as Will panted stumbling to his knees and burying one hand in the mud below them. For a second he allowed himself to remain there. Trying to steady himself against the tugging at his clothes. 

The ghosts had caught up. Evans pushing them back as one of the men, they’d called him Jondalar, offered him a hand. Pulling Will to his feet as he nodded his thanks at the man. Beside him Tom offers a shaky smile, hands tight on his rifle. 

“Back in. Get back in. Go.” Around them the men do just that. The sepoy that had helped him up putting a hand on his shoulder just long enough for him to realize it was there. 

“Are you alright?” The man clearly directing the question at the both of them. Will nodding as Blake glanced at him in lieu of answering, turning to clamber back into the back of the truck instead. 

Will was the last back on. Shaking hands that grabbed at his clothes before he slid into a seat and closed his eyes. Ignoring the sudden weight of the dead at his back once again. 

The convoy moves off and he almost believes they’ll be left to themselves the Sepoy turning to him a moment later. “So, where are you going?” 

Will sighed as he answered. One hand tugging his kit into place as he glanced between the privates around him. “We have to get to the 2nd Devons. Just past Ecoust.” 

“Why?” 

“They’re attacking at dawn. We have orders to stop them.” Across from him Blake was already nodding, taking in a deep breath as he adjusted his hold on his rifle and glanced up. 

“How come?” It was a private that asked instead of the sepoy. 

Blake answered this time. Voice louder than he’d been since the house. “They’re walking into a trap.” 

“How many?”

Will didn’t wait for Blake to answer this time. “Sixteen hundred.”

The silence that follows isn’t all that surprising. The men turning to face the two of them as Will met Blake’s eyes and nodded once. The other returning a small grin as he leaned back.

“Jesus.” A beat as the Private glances between them and Will knows what he’s going to say even without Jones and Evans betting on it across the two of them. “You’ll never make it.”

Will turns to him before Blake’s actually managed to look at him. “Yes. We will.” Something about the way he says it seems to drive home. The younger soldier straightening slightly in his seat as he glanced between the two. 

A clink of glass and a small bottle of whiskey offered from the Private in front of him. Will accepting it with a soft, “Thank you.” before handing it off to Blake. Watching as he took a swallow and returned it. 

“We’ll make it.” Blake sounds certain of it. The ghosts that surround him drifting just a little further away as Will offered the other a nod. 

The privates attention drifting away again as they simply settled in to wait. Will had no doubt that something was going to go wrong. The hum in his veins was back. Soft, almost imperceptible. Nothing like the beat it had been before the pilot. 

But there all the same.

Something was coming. He had to hope he’d be ready this time. Before anyone was going after the two with a knife. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I finally finish the third chapter after 3 weeks? Yep, I ended up cutting it a little shorter than planned but I will hopefully get the next chapter done sooner than I did this one. The next chapter will be much more action packed, I'm sure. Also, a lot more ghosts. Since you know that's the reason for the AU...
> 
> Some of the dialogue is taken directly from the script and some of it is altered. sorry if it's a little hard to follow I don't currently have a way to watch the movie and I was having a bit of trouble remembering good features to describe the privates by considering they only say like 2 names.


End file.
